Late Nights
by FeatheredFiend
Summary: •because someday this wasn't going to happen anymore, because one day soon Bumblebee would finally be a grown mech• Ratchet, Bumblebee


_Title: Late Nights  
>Fandom: Transformers:Prime<br>Author: Feathered Fiend  
>Characters: Ratchet, Bumblebee<br>Genre: Family, Humor  
>Rating: K+ for silly, nonsense late night visits from Bumblebee.<br>Status: One Shot, Complete  
>Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, else things would have been a lot different.<br>Warning: This is part of a new series I'm running called "A Father's Love". It's going to show a Father/Son relationship between Ratchet and Bumblebee. I'm sorry if everyone seems terribly out of character.  
><em>

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><p><em>"He was saying, <em>I love you_, the only way he knew how."_  
>-"A Father's Love", Bucky Covington<p>

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><p>A shift next to him, the medic awoke and onlined his optic sensors—<em>because he had certainly drifted into recharge alone<em>. His form moved to a bit to remove himself from the situation—_because he didn't dare look just yet_—but the figure just scooted closer to him. Giving up on just ignoring it, he decided it was due time to see what the frag was going on. He turned his gaze to the left—_because that was where the trespasser was currently located_—and scowled slightly at the sight—_because it was not even remotely right in his mind_.

At his side was a little yellow scout, he had folded his form gently against the medic's and fallen deep into recharge. He didn't speak—_because he wasn't sure about waking the little brat_—and carefully leaned over to run a scan. His faceplates twisted and optics dimmed—_because sometimes it was just too much, because the little scout was perfectly fine_. He lifted a servo from the berth—_because he'd made his decision and planned on waking the youngling up_—but stopped, uncertainty showing its face—_because there was something about this that unnerved him, because this started when the mech was young and frightened_.

He twisted his form—_careful not to disturb his bedmate_—and gently laid a recharging Autobot. The yellow bot did not wake—_because he was comfort_—and the medic didn't move—_because he enjoyed seeing the youngster so relaxed_. However, this did not stop from scout from moving about the berth and cuddling closer to the older bot—_which was embarrassing as Pit to the medic_.

Metal scraping together startled the older Autobot, he jumped a bit before realizing the scout's chest plates brushing against his—_because this wasn't as simple as it used to be, because Bumblebee had _grown. He realized in that moment, optics dimming in comprehension that his once little bug was now a grown warrior—_because it was bound to happen, because they don't stay small forever_. His faceplates twisted in dread—_because someday his little bedmate was going to grow out of _this_ completely, never to return to his berth on a whim like tonight_.

As if he sensed the elder's distress, the scout stirred from his recharge and shifted even closer. His head nuzzling against the medic's shoulder—_because he wanted to make sure he was actually there_—before the swirl of his optics onlining echoed through the otherwise silent room. His head lifted, much to the medic's dismay, and those large azure orbs stared up at him. He beeped and whirled—_asking if his friend was all right_—before tilting his head in a curious manner.

"You're getting a little too grown-up for this," Ratchet grunted—_because he didn't want to admit that he was scared, because he didn't want the little bugger to grow up just yet_. The younger seemed a bit disheartened by the medic's words—_evident when his shoulder sank and his head tilted down_—and the white and red bot felt guilty—_because there he was pushing the poor youngling away, because he was frightened of the closeness_. He didn't show it—_because he wouldn't allow such things to get out_—and scolded, "What are you doing in here anyway, Bumblebee?"

The youngling answered with a series of clicks, beeps, and whistles—_telling him about a dream he had, about how scary it was but didn't go any farther_. The medic frowned deeper and sat up, nearly knocking his bedmate off the berth—_because the once puny youngling was now almost into full adulthood, much larger then before and the berth hadn't grown with him_. "Don't be ridiculous," he huffed at the younger. "We do not have dreams. I think you should go back and—"

For once the little scout interrupted the elder, his optics shone with determination and his body stance was that of a solider, not a youngling like normal. He beeped and clicked—_claiming that he did have a dream, a memory more like it, and that it was frightening, so frightening that he needed Ratchet_—all the while resituating himself to sit up. The medic was surprised—_because this wasn't like his little youngling_—and the revelations kept coming. In his own language, the yellow warrior wailed a story—_one about a little hatchling that almost lost his substitute creator, a fear that still concerned him to this day when this alternate figure in his life when on missions as well_.

The medic was left feeling extremely guilty when the younger bot was finished—_because he didn't know his younger companion was troubled by anything that he did—_and found himself laying back in the berth, back turned to the robotic lad. There were a few more beeps and clicks—_asking what was going on_—before the older Autobot grunted and barely glanced over his shoulder. "Just tonight," he replied. "You can stay in here for tonight, but Primus as my witness, if you dare come in here again, I rewire you to be nothing more then one of the children's play toys!"

It seemed to take a moment for the scout to understand but when it did, the medic almost regretted it. The yellow bot beeped happily—_speaking too quickly for the medic to understand what was being said_—and sprung into the spot next to his alternate creator. Nearly rolling his optics, Ratchet offlined them and turned his head, beginning to power down his systems carefully. He could feel the youngster nuzzling against his back, arms trapped between his chest and the older bot's back—_because he would wait until Ratchet as in recharge before showing too much affection towards him_.

As the last few systems began to shut down for the night, the medic knew his little bot would be there when he awoke—_as close to him as he could get_—and would still be in deep recharge—_because his young systems enjoyed the feel_. He nearly smiled at the thought—_because someday this wasn't going to happen anymore, because one day soon Bumblebee would finally be a grown mech_—and without realizing it, he rolled over and wrapped an arm around the little yellow bugger. He pulled him close—_because he was going to miss this_—and could hear the little beeps of cheerfulness—_because Bumblebee was receiving the affection he adored_. Just like that, the two slipped into complete recharge—_because they were happy_.

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><p>.Author's Note.<p>

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><p>Oh dear God, I think I'm going to make myself sick. This was just so fluff and sweet, and I cannot believe I wrote it. However, I think its what I needed to write, get me out of the funk I've been in and maybe something light hearted once in awhile won't be so bad, right? Sorry if anyone is out of character or something. Reviews would be awesome, just saying.<p>

Also, thanks to char0lastra who this is sent out to.


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